


Angels Are Watching Over You

by through_shadows_falling



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Best Friends, Castiel and Dean Winchester Grow Up Together, Childhood Friends, Emmanuel is not who he seems, F/M, Fallen Angels, Homophobia, Kid Fic, M/M, heart condition
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-03
Updated: 2014-10-03
Packaged: 2018-02-19 16:16:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2394821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/through_shadows_falling/pseuds/through_shadows_falling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At nine years old, Dean and Emmanuel meet and become fast friends. One night at a sleep-over, they share secrets that change everything.</p><p>Dean dreams of living a full life, despite his heart being the way it is.</p><p>And Emmanuel? </p><p>Emmanuel dreams of flying, and somehow, he knows that they’re not just dreams.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Angels Are Watching Over You

It’s September 18, and Dean is tired of watching Sam play soccer with the other kids. He’d join in if he could, but seeing as he can’t, he wanders off into the woods behind the park. Autumn is just starting to nip at the air, but the leaves are only just changing. Dean pauses to watch them flutter in the wind and he shivers, pulling up the front of his jacket before swooping to grab a large branch that had fallen just to the side of the path.

Tearing off the smaller branches, he brandishes the long, knobby pole like a sword, whacking tree trunks and sending chips of wood flying out of sight.

By the time the path is circling back to the park, Dean’s stick is half the length, and the tip is sharp where a jagged piece broke off. He eyes the ground for some sort of stone to whittle it down even more when up the trail, sitting on the ground with his back against a tree, is a boy around his age. He’s white, with dark hair and a baggy blue sweater, and curled in his lap is a book which he appears to be engrossed in, as he doesn’t notice Dean’s approach until Dean is practically on top of him.

“Hey. Whatcha readin’?” Dean asks, and the boy squeaks, jumping. He scrambles to hide his book behind him until he fully takes in Dean, standing there with one hand jammed in the pocket of his jeans.

“Oh. You’re not…” the boy mumbles, adding something to himself under his breath. He opens his book as if to bury himself in it again, and Dean frowns.

“Hey, that’s not very nice. I asked you a question.” Dean holds up his stick and the boy eyes it warily, slowly putting the book back down. He glares.

“You’re interrupting a good part.”

“What book is it?”

The boy rolls his eyes, emitting a long-suffering sigh. He tilts the book to expose the cover.

“ _The Giver_?” Dean reads. “Sounds boring.”

“It’s not.”

“Oh. What’s it about?”

The boy’s glare only intensifies. “Why do you care? What do you want?”

Dean shrugs. “I dunno. I’m just… I dunno.” He scuffs his foot on the dirt path and then decides to try drawing into it with his stick. The path is a gray type of stone on the topmost layer, but digging down deeper exposes a richer brown color, and Dean is pleased that his designs stick out.

“What’re you drawing?”

Dean glances over at the boy, who is regarding Dean with a curious tilt to his head.

“It’s a car.” Dean puffs up his chest. “A 1967 Chevrolet Impala. That’s the car my dad drives.” He looks back at his drawing. “I’m not very good at drawing. Especially not with sticks.”

The boy squints. “It kind of looks like a car. Is that the windshield?” He points.

“That’s a wheel!”

“Oh. Uhh…”

Dean shoots the boy a harsh look and the boy settles back down, chagrined. Using his feet, Dean scrapes over dirt to cover his drawing, leaving the otherwise gray trail scarred with brown. The boy brings out his book again, but Dean asks him a question before he can open it.

“What’re you doing out here?”

The boy pointedly waves his book in the air. “Reading.”

“Well _duh_ but why all the way out here? The park has lots of benches.”

The boy smiles faintly. “I like the trees.” Dean follows his gaze as he glances upward, a serene expression flitting over his face. “My house doesn’t have trees anymore. I miss them.”

Dean rocks back on his feet, his face lit up in realization. “Oh, you’re one of the new kids. I thought I recognized you. You’re in Ms. Allen’s class, right?”

The boy nods. “Yeah. And you’re in Ms. Barnes’s.”

Dean’s mouth hangs open. “How’d you know that?”

The boy lifts his shoulders in a shrug. “I dunno. I just noticed I guess.”

Dean stares at him for a moment before smiling and sticking out a hand. “I’m Dean.”

The boy smiles shyly. “I’m Emmanuel.” He takes Dean’s hand and timidly shakes it.

Dean grins. “Cool. Well, see you at school, Manny!”

“Manny?” Emmanuel calls after him, and Dean only laughs, giving him a wave as he heads back to his mother. (Who is furious at him for leaving so suddenly, of course.)

* * *

It’s during recess at school on Monday that Dean talks with Manny again. He has to walk across the whole field to find him, and it’s no surprise that he’s curled up against the only tree in the fenced-in area, once again reading a book. He jumps slightly when Dean settles beside him.

“You read a lot.”

“Hello, Dean,” Emmanuel says, and Dean eyes his book.

“Did you already finish that other one? Wow, you read fast!”

Emmanuel glances down with pink tingeing his cheeks. “I just like to read.”

“Well yeah but it’s _recess_! You’re not supposed to _read_. That’s lame.”

Emmanuel scowls. “It’s not lame!” He bites his lip, his eyebrows scrunched, and Dean feels sorry for being mean.

“Okay, it’s not lame. But do ya wanna play with me? My friend Benny and me are making spears, and then we’re gonna hunt monsters!”

Emmanuel looks startled at that. “What?”

“Come on!” Dean says, nudging Emmanuel’s shoulder with his own. “It’s really fun! We could be soldiers instead, or something.” He rolls his eyes. “It’s just pretend.”

Emmanuel’s lips purse as he thinks about it, and then he nods. “Okay.”

“Awesome!” Dean grabs his hand and yanks Emmanuel to his feet, dragging him back across the field toward the playground, where Benny, a somewhat pudgy white boy, is carefully piling rocks on top of each other. “Benny, this is Manny,” Dean introduces when Benny looks up.

“It’s Emmanuel,” Emmanuel corrects.

Benny glances at Dean and then back at Emmanuel. “So what should I call you?” he asks, speaking in a Southern accent.

“Emmanuel.”

Benny nods. “Okay. Do you have a weapon?”

Emmanuel shakes his head.

“No, we’ve gotta find him one,” Dean says, and Benny gets to his feet, dusting off his hands on his pants. “Come on, let’s go look!”

They spend the rest of recess searching for something Emmanuel can use as a weapon, which doesn’t amount to much. Since there aren’t any trees in the recess area, it’s hard to come up with spears, and the ones Dean and Benny already found are more like twigs.

“What about wands? We could be wizards. Or sorcerers,” Emmanuel suggests when Benny and Dean show him what they’ve got so far. Emmanuel’s eyes light up. “We could carve stones, too, and make runes for spells and rituals! And sacrificial pyres!”

Benny and Dean exchange a look and Emmanuel hunches into himself.

“Dude, that sounds _so cool_!” Dean bursts out. “Maybe I should read more.”

Benny laughs. “Yeah! I’m tired of being boring old hunters all the time. Hey, what kinda books do you like, Emmanuel? Maybe we can go to the library and get some, then try to make all those spells you were talking about.”

Emmanuel brightens, and he launches into a description of his latest discovery.

When the bell rings, Dean is brimming with excitement. He can’t wait for recess tomorrow.

* * *

As it goes, time passes quickly. They’re just starting their second month of friendship when Dean invites Emmanuel over to his house. Dean’s mom, Mary, makes grilled cheese, and they can smell it cooking as Dean gives Emmanuel the grand tour.

“And this…is my room!” Dean finishes with a flourish, dashing forward to leap onto his bed, squishing into a Star Wars comforter. His walls are white but covered in glow-in-the-dark alien stickers, and there are kits of model cars strewn around, the finished ones sitting proudly on a special shelf next to his desk. He’s also got a stack of cassettes in leaning towers on the floor, and Emmanuel picks around them carefully as he joins Dean on the bed.

“It’s soft,” he comments, and Dean grins.

“Yeah. It’s warm, too. I’m hoping to get an Indiana Jones’ one for Christmas. What’re you hoping for? Oh wait, probably books!” Dean says, dangling his legs over the side of the bed.

“I’m just excited for my sister to be home,” Emmanuel says, and Dean glances at him.

“Oh yeah, she’s in college, right?”

Emmanuel nods. “She’s a freshman.”

“Wow, so she was what, nine when you were born?”

Emmanuel quirks his lips. “I was a surprise.”

Dean laughs and then they’re rocketing off the bed to the sound of his mother calling them down to eat. Lunch is a rushed affair, because Dean wants to show off his video games. He successfully trounces Emmanuel in every game they try, and though Emmanuel gets frustrated, his face is sad when his mom, Amelia, arrives to pick him up.

“I really like your house,” Emmanuel says as a goodbye, and Dean smiles.

“Cool. You’ll have to come over more, then!”

Emmanuel beams as their mothers converse.

“Dean, how would you like to come over to our house next Friday?” Amelia asks, and Dean nods.

“Yeah! That sounds awesome!”

And so he does.

Emmanuel’s house is a little stuffier than Dean’s, but not in an uncomfortable way. It’s just cleaner, and there’s a quieter, more intense atmosphere that pervades the place, especially when they sit down for dinner and Amelia prompts her husband, Jimmy, to say grace. Jimmy is like an older version of Emmanuel, and though he looks stern, there’s a warmth to his face when he speaks. Dean has never heard grace before, and he bows his head politely.

After they eat, Emmanuel shows Dean his room. It’s full of books, of course, but also maps of constellations and nature photographs ripped straight out of National Geographic magazines. He also has a ton of stuffed animals, which he blushes at. They decide to build a fort, and Dean sets up the foundation while Emmanuel goes for some blankets in the linen closet.

“I wanna go to space someday,” Emmanuel says once they’re lying on their backs beneath the drooping canopy.

“Yeah? Sounds cool, but I don’t like heights.”

Emmanuel stares at Dean. “Don’t you ever dream of flying?”

Dean squirms, shrugging awkwardly. “No. Not really. I dream of…other things.”

* * *

During Christmas break, Dean and Emmanuel get together again, this time at Dean’s house. Emmanuel is there for a sleep-over, and they spend the afternoon racing Dean’s model cars around the house. Dean’s younger brother Sam tries to play with them, but he’s only five years old, and Dean chases him away so they can be alone.

A few hours before dinner, Emmanuel beats Dean down the stairs as they sprint to get a snack. It’s when he arrives in the kitchen that he realizes something’s wrong, because Dean shows up behind him with his face scrunched in pain. He’s clutching the fabric over his heart and breathing hard.

“Dean?” Emmanuel says, stepping toward him, and Dean lets out a pained grunt.

“M’fine. It’s—”

Thankfully, Mary bustles in at that moment. She takes one look at Dean and kneels before him, grabbing his shoulders. Emmanuel just looks on, frightened.

“Dean, sweetie, are you okay? What’s hurting you? Did you take your pills this morning?”

“Yeah, Mom, I’m fine! It’s…it’s going away.”

“Are you sure?”

Dean inhales a breath and lets it out slowly, the pain on his face smoothing out. “It’s gone. I told you. I’m fine.”

“Dean. Are you sure?” she asks again, and Dean nods somberly.

Mary exhales and stands up slowly, nodding in understanding, but her eyes don’t leave Dean until they’re going to bed.

“You boys need anything else?” she asks in the doorway, her finger poised over the light. Emmanuel is snuggled on a futon on the floor.

“No, Mom. Goodnight!” Dean says, and Mary bites her lip, nodding. From his position, Emmanuel can see her worry.

“Okay. Well, if anything happens…you just yell. And I mean anything. Anything that’s not normal or—”

“I _know_ , Mom! I said goodnight!”

The shadow of Dean’s dad, John, stretches into the room as he appears behind Mary.

“That is no way to speak to your mother, Dean!”

Emmanuel peeks at Dean, who looks chastened.

“Sorry,” he says. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight sweetheart. Love you. Goodnight, Emmanuel.”

“Goodnight Mr. and Mrs. Winchester,” Emmanuel says obediently, and then Mary turns off the light and closes the door, leaving them in darkness except for the green glow of Dean’s lightsaber night-light and the alien stickers on his wall.

They’re quiet for a few moments, the only sounds their breaths, and Emmanuel jumps when Dean speaks.

“Hey Manny, can I tell you a secret?”

There’s the sound of rustling, and Emmanuel shifts to see the silhouette of Dean leaning on his elbows, peering down from his bed.

Emmanuel nods, and then says yes when he realizes Dean can’t see him very well.

“Do you believe in angels?” Dean continues.

Emmanuel blinks at the question. “Um, I guess so. I mean, they’re in the Bible.”

“But do you think they’re real?”

“I dunno. Why?”

It’s another minute before Dean answers.

“I almost died once, when I was four. Actually, I think I _did_ die, but then I came back. I…I have this thing. It’s called Hypertrophic Cardiomyopathy.” He sounds out each syllable slowly so Emmanuel can understand.

“Cardio…” Emmanuel starts. He gasps. “Is that…like cardi _ac_? Like, a heart problem?”

“Yeah. My heart’s messed up. I…had a seizure when I was four and I died. I saw this…this bright light. And a woman, I think, with brown hair, only she had her back turned to me. My mom always said that angels were watching over me. Manny, I think the woman I saw was an angel.”

Emmanuel doesn’t know what to say, until he blurts out, “So is that why you can’t play sports?”

Dean sighs. “Yeah. It sucks.”

“It _stinks_ ,” Emmanuel corrects, and Dean huffs out a laugh.

“‘Sucks’ isn’t a swear word.”

“Yes it is!”

“That’s just what your parents say. What does Claire say? She’s in college. I bet she says all the bad words. The _real_ ones.”

“She does not!”

“You should ask her.”

“I’m not asking her about swear words. That’s stupid.”

“No, _you’re_ stupid!” Dean shoots back, and they’re silent for a moment before he adds, in a soft voice, “You don’t think I’m stupid, do you? For believing in angels?”

“No, Dean, I don’t.” Emmanuel sucks in a breath. “Can I tell you a secret?”

“Yeah. ‘Course.”

Emmanuel hesitates. “I dream of flying. A lot.”

“But…so do a lot of people, right?”

“I know, but it’s…it’s not like a dream. It’s more real. Like…I don’t know. When I’m flying, I can actually feel my wings. My _wings_. And…then there are the voices.”

“The voices?”

“Yeah. They’re loud and they’re saying things that I almost understand. Almost. Like it’s on the tip of my tongue. I don’t think it’s English. I don’t know what language it is. But it makes me sad. I always wake up…crying.”

“Whoa,” Dean whispers. “So…what do you think it means?”

Emmanuel’s breath whooshes out of him in relief. “I don’t know. But I’ve been having the dreams ever since I can remember.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah.”

The only sound is their breathing for a while before Dean starts talking about school, and if Emmanuel can help him on the project they have to do over break. Once they start talking, they can’t stop, and it’s not until there’s a knock at the door and a warning from John to go to sleep that they actually listen. They shut their eyes and sink into oblivion, ignoring the scary thoughts that loom at the back of their minds.

* * *

Years pass.

When they are 11 years old, Benny has to move back south to be with his family. It’s sad, but Dean still has Emmanuel and vice-versa, and the two of them become inseparable.

Emmanuel is there when Dean has his first crush on a girl named Robin.

Dean is there when Emmanuel’s voice drops several octaves, and he spends several weeks squeaking sporadically as his voice adjusts.

Emmanuel is there when Dean has his second near-death experience.

It’s a routine procedure to get his tonsils removed, but during the surgery, Dean’s heart fails. It takes the doctors a long time to bring him back, and even then they aren’t sure they’ve done it until the monitor beeps again, stable but still unsure.

A week later, Dean has a pacemaker inserted, and when Emmanuel visits him at the hospital, Dean cracks a tired grin.

“First step on my way to becoming an android.”

“I think you mean a cyborg,” Emmanuel corrects, and despite the bags under his eyes, Dean laughs.

“Oh yeah, right. Obviously.”

His smile drops and he beckons Emmanuel to come closer. They’re alone in the hospital room, and Dean appears anxious as he stares at Emmanuel.

“Do you remember at that sleep-over a while back…I told you my secret?”

Emmanuel nods. Though they haven’t spoken of it in years, he can recall every word.

Dean licks his lips, his eyes darting away. “It happened again.”

“Angels?” Emmanuel whispers, and he’s not sure why he’s speaking so softly.

“Yeah. It was like before. That same woman with the brown hair…the angel. Only this time she started turning toward me, so I almost saw her face.” Dean stiffens and reaches out to clutch at Emmanuel’s sleeve. “Manny…I think I was really close this time. I think if I see her face…then it’s over. And I don’t…I don’t wanna die.” Dean’s voice breaks, and Emmanuel feels a lump wedge in his throat.

“Dean…I don’t want you to die either,” Emmanuel says at last, gently prying off Dean’s fingers so he can hold his hand properly, squeezing comfort to his best friend even though it’s not much.

Dean squeezes back after a second, his eyes brimming with unshed tears.

“I’m scared,” he breathes.

“Me, too,” Emmanuel says. “But you’re gonna be okay. You’ve got a pacemaker now. That should help, right?”

“My heart’s still fucked up, Manny.”

“ _Screwed_ up,” Emmanuel corrects automatically, and Dean lets out a watery chuckle.

“What _is_ it with you and swear words? We’re in high school, dude. It’s okay to swear.”

Their hands drop and Emmanuel rolls his eyes, relaxing as the tension is broken.

“We may be in high school, but that doesn’t mean I want to devolve into an impolite brute.”

“Oh my god you sound exactly like your dad. Holy shit!”

Emmanuel stares at him pointedly. “ _Dean_.”

“Sorry not sorry! Come on, Manny, live a little!”

“I don’t see how swearing has anything to do with living.”

Now Dean rolls his eyes. He lets the subject drop, though, as he remembers something more important. “Wait, the next issue came out didn’t it? Tell me what happened!”

“Are you sure you want spoilers?”

“Yes! I’ve been waiting all summer! Stupid cliffhanger!”

“Alright, alright. Fine. So...” Emmanuel begins, and they spend the next few minutes catching up the comic book release that Dean missed due to his hospitalization. Their families clamber in right in the middle, and Dean looks annoyed but also exhausted, so Emmanuel promises to fill him in when Dean comes home.

In the car ride, Emmanuel’s parents are quiet, letting Emmanuel’s thoughts drift as he stares at the window.

“We’ll keep praying for him,” Amelia says suddenly, and Jimmy agrees.

“He’s a fighter. Let’s hope that this will be his last fight for a long time.”

“Emmanuel, are you alright?” Amelia asks, peering into the backseat, and Emmanuel makes a sound in reply but says nothing else.

His head is filled with the wing-beats of angels.

* * *

 Dean is ecstatic when he gets his Learner’s Permit.

“Now it’s official,” he declares, slamming his fist on the kitchen counter, and Emmanuel hums thoughtfully.

“I think you mean now it’s _legal_ ,” Sam interrupts as he shoves by them to get to the fridge, grabbing a yogurt.

“What? You enjoyed our spins in the Impala, didn’t you?”

Sam shoots his brother a flat look. “Oh yeah. Our _illegal_ spins where I thought I was gonna die? Very fun. Definitely.”

“Yeah, _right_ , Sammy, I drove her like a pro. You’re making that up.”

“Then why’d Dad have to bail us out and you got grounded?”

Dean scrunches his face, waving his hand dismissively. “You had fun and you know it, ungrateful bitch.”

“Jerk,” Sam shoots back, immediately turning to Emmanuel, who makes no comment since he knows from experience that it’s pointless to try to correct their normal exchange.

“So are you gonna go for your Learner’s Permit?” Sam asks him, and Emmanuel shrugs.

“I don’t know. I don’t really like driving. It’s so…cramped.”

“I’m gonna pretend I didn’t hear that, or else I’m never driving you to school,” Dean says, and Emmanuel huffs. “You laugh now, but just you wait,” Dean continues. “Driving equals freedom. And once I can drive anyone, man, I’m gonna go on so many dates!”

“Yeah right. Who would go on a date with you?” Sam says, and Dean gets up to punch him in the shoulder.

“Ow!” Sam cries out, glaring at his brother as he rubs at the sore spot.

“That’s what you get for doubting me, because I already have plans,” Dean declares, lifting his head proudly. “I’m gonna go on a date with Cassie Robinson.”

“Cassie Robinson? No way!” Sam says. He nudges Emmanuel. “She’s way outta his league, right?”

But Emmanuel is distracted.

“Manny?” Dean says, and Emmanuel shakes himself.

“Cas. Cas…Cassie. Right. Um. Yeah. I bet she’d go on a date with you.”

“Hell yeah! See, Sammy, Manny knows what he’s talking about. He’s got my back. Now don’t you have homework to do?”

“Don’t you?” Sam retorts, and Dean makes a face.

“Yeah, yeah, go eat your girl yogurt and have fun braiding your hair!”

Sam flips him off before stealthily concealing it as John enters the kitchen, giving them all suspicious looks.

“Come on, Manny,” Dean says, and he drags Emmanuel up to his room.

It’s changed a bit since Emmanuel’s first time there. The alien stickers are still up, but the model cars are packed away, replaced by shelves of comic books, figurines, and video games. Dean’s got his own TV and game console in his room now, so they settle down to play.

“Hey, Manny, you okay? You seem…out of it,” Dean says as the screen loads.

Emmanuel swallows. “Yeah. I don’t know. It was just…a weird feeling for a second.”

Dean bites his lips and stammers out, “You’re okay if I date Cassie, right? I mean, it’s not…I mean…not like you…well, maybe you do but I don’t…?”

Emmanuel cocks his head at Dean. “What’re you talking about? You can date whoever you want.”

Dean cuts himself off, nodding vigorously. “Oh. Right. Yeah. Cool.”

Emmanuel sighs suddenly. “We can’t play too many rounds. I’ve got a lot of homework to do.”

“That’s your fault for taking fifty thousand language classes.”

“It’s far less than fifty thousand.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “Same difference. I mean, I get why you’re doing it, but you really think that language you hear in your dreams is real? You’ve listened to how many languages now, and none of them match up?”

“I’ll find it. I know I will. And I like languages, so it doesn’t matter,” Emmanuel says.

“But what if it’s made up? Or what if it’s a language _backwards_? People’s subconscious minds can be _weird_.” Dean grins. “Or maybe the language isn’t from Earth. Maybe you’re actually an alien!”

His humor fades when he sees that Emmanuel isn’t laughing.

“I’ve thought of that, actually,” Emmanuel admits quietly.

Dean stares at him, his mouth agape. “You think you’re an alien? Seriously?”

“I don’t know! Anything’s possible, right? Maybe I’ve been reincarnated as human or something and these are memories from my past life.”

“Dude, that’s just crazy!”

“Is it though?” Emmanuel says, and his eyes are earnest as he gazes at Dean. “You’ve had visions of angels. Isn’t it possible that there’s something else out there? Something we don’t know about?”

Dean squirms. “I mean…I guess so.” He takes a deep breath. “But aren’t the dreams happening less and less now? Since…you know.”

Since one night, when Emmanuel woke distraught and confessed everything to his alarmed parents.

Emmanuel’s jaw clenches.

“It doesn’t matter that they’re less frequent. They’re still happening. My parents and my psychiatrist can’t make them stop.”

“But don’t you think—”

“Oh, so you can believe in angels, but I can’t believe that there’s something different about me because I’ve been having these dreams _since I was born_? You know what…screw, no, _fuck_ you, Dean.”

Emmanuel stands in a huff, trembling with rage and not sparing Dean another glance as he blows out of the room.

* * *

Emmanuel doesn’t like Cassie, but Dean’s happy with her, so there’s nothing he can do.

He hates that she sits at their lunch table. He hates that she and Dean obnoxiously play footsie and make doe-eyes at each other. He hates that Dean has his license and can drive anyone he wants, but chooses to take Cassie out more than him.

Emmanuel misses his friend, but Dean is happy, so there’s nothing he can do.

Instead, he buries himself in his studies. He’s a natural at languages, and his teacher has been working with him to translate some heavier texts – a course-load usually relegated to graduate students, though Emmanuel himself had requested the extra work.

His parents are proud of him. He’s won a few national awards now, and people have been throwing around the term ‘genius’ so at least they respect his intelligence enough not to bully him.

Everything seems to be well and good in the life of Emmanuel Novak, until one day he encounters someone that throws it all into question.

It starts with a British accent, which makes no sense since Emmanuel has never met an actual British person in all his life.

But one day, he’s sitting in his room, struggling to translate a sentence, when a voice pops into his head.

“ _Despite everything, I miss you. The garrison’s not been the same since you and Anael left_.”

Emmanuel freezes, his eyes widening. It’s never happened during the day before, and never been in a language he could understand. He tenses when it comes again.

“ _I’m still holding onto it, you know. As if you’ll change your mind_.” There’s a soft chuckle. “ _I suppose I’m getting sentimental in my old age, what can I say_.”

“Who’s there?” Emmanuel says aloud, and there’s a shift, like sudden tension.

“ _…wait, can you hear me right now?_ ”

Emmanuel can’t breathe, but he manages a breathless, “Yes.”

There’s silence, and then the voice chuckles again, sadly this time.

“ _So you can. But you don’t know who I am, do you_?”

“No. Who are you?”

“ _It doesn’t matter. What’s your name now?_ ”

Emmanuel forces the word out. “Emmanuel.”

“ _Ah, still Biblical. Ironic, that. But I suppose it makes sense. You never could leave it completely_.”

“Leave what?”

“ _Your faith_.”

Emmanuel is still for a long moment. “Is this real?”

“ _Quite. Sorry to give you a jolly scare. It won’t happen again_.”

“Wait, no, don’t go!” Emmanuel says, leaping to his feet and staring around. “Can you tell me what it means? My dreams, the voices?”

There is no reply. The voice is gone.

Emmanuel picks up his phone, about to call Dean, when he remembers that he’s out with Cassie. Sitting on the edge of his bed, Emmanuel’s shoulders slump. No, he can’t tell Dean. He wouldn’t believe him anyways.

At least Emmanuel knows he isn’t crazy.

* * *

Emmanuel takes up martial arts.

It’s not enough to keep his mind occupied anymore. Now he’s got to get his body active, too, or else he’ll be consumed by reaching out to that voice again.

He’s pleaded, yelled, sobbed…all to no effect. And now the dreams are hitting him every night without fail, and they’ve changed, filled with different colored wings, voices raised in laughter, a streak of gold, a flash of red. Emmanuel feels joy when he soars through the sky, joy and love, and then there are scenes of chaos. Fighting. He can’t tell who’s fighting who, but there are feathers and blood and darkness, and instead of waking up in tears, he wakes up covered in sweat, his heart beating with adrenaline.

It’s hard to hide his exhaustion. The dreams don’t let him recover, don’t let him feel like he slept at all. And even Dean notices, despite Cassie being permanently attached to his arm.

One night, Dean invites Emmanuel over for a sleep-over.

It’s been a while since they’ve had one, seeing as they’re grown-up now, but Emmanuel is relieved all the same. The dreams have been wearing him down, and after dinner, where even John and Mary were concerned on his behalf, Emmanuel and Dean go up to Dean’s room and just lay down on his queen bed, staring at the ceiling.

“I’m sorry it’s been so long,” Dean says.

“It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not. You’re my best friend.” Dean shifts so he’s facing Emmanuel, and Emmanuel does the same.

“Can I tell you a secret?” Dean whispers after a moment, and Emmanuel smiles wistfully, nodding.

“Of course.”

Dean sucks in a breath. “I think…I like boys, too.”

Emmanuel blinks at him in shock. “What?”

“I kissed Aaron Bass,” Dean says, the words tumbling out of his mouth. His expression is one of guilt, and he plows on before Emmanuel can say anything. “I know, I know, I was with Cassie. But the Aaron thing just sorta happened and…I told Cassie and she got mad and now we’re done. We’re over.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“I’m not.”

Emmanuel frowns in confusion. “What?”

Dean smirks. “It wasn’t working anyways. And…I really liked kissing Aaron, even though he’s a little dweeb.” He shrugs awkwardly. “I guess I’ve always known, but now…now it’s for real. I’m…bi.”

Emmanuel nods slowly. “That’s…I’m…I’m proud of you. I know it’s not easy to admit that.”

“No, it’s not. But I knew you wouldn’t judge me or anything. You’re awesome, Manny.”

Emmanuel smiles at that, but then grows serious. “Dean, can I tell you a secret?”

“Yeah.”

Emmanuel swallows, and then it all spills out of him. The new voice, his changed dreams. Dean listens and his eyes grow wide, but he waits until Emmanuel is done before speaking.

“Holy shit,” he says at last, and Emmanuel chuckles weakly.

“Holy shit, indeed.”

They return their gazes to the ceiling and Emmanuel braces himself for Dean’s true thoughts.

“It’s real, isn’t it?” Dean says finally. “What’s happening to you.”

Emmanuel sucks in a sharp breath, turning to Dean. “You believe me?”

Dean’s grin is crooked. “Well, I _do_ believe in angels, so I’m not one to talk.”

Emmanuel is so relieved he can’t contain his smile, and in the next instant, Dean’s face is very close to his, and they’re leaning in and their lips are touching.

Kissing Dean isn’t what Emmanuel expected to happen, and yet at the same time, it feels like it was inevitable. Dean’s lips are soft and wet, and Emmanuel lets him take over, trying to follow his example as warmth settles deep into his bones.

When Dean pulls away, his eyes are glazed and slightly frightened.

“Was that…that’s okay? You don’t…?”

“That was very okay,” Emmanuel says, his face tinged pink.

Dean lets out a breath and then they’re both laughing, clutching their stomachs as they giggle helplessly.

“I didn’t know if you even…were into dudes,” Dean says when they calm down.

Emmanuel shrugs. “I don’t know if I am or not. I haven’t really...thought about it.” He meets Dean’s eyes. “But you, you’re…you’re what I want.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Cool.”

“…Dean?”

“Mmm?”

“Can I kiss you again?”

Dean smiles and surges forward. Their hands find each other’s and squeeze tight.

* * *

Dean doesn’t know why it took so long for things to click, but with Emmanuel at his side again, life goes back to normal. His friend still looks tired a lot, but he assures Dean that the dreams are fading slightly, and he promises not to kill himself searching for that voice again.

Whatever’s happening to Emmanuel is weird, but Dean figures it’ll pass, as these things do. He decides to focus on the present, where he gets to hold Emmanuel’s hand as often and as proudly as he wants. The school accepts it pretty readily, except for a few jerk-wads, but Dean doesn’t really care about them.

Who he does care about is their families.

Mary smiles as if she had known all along, and John…is uncomfortable but vows to get over it. And Sam is about as happy as can be, running around saying that he _knew_ it, of course. The loser.

Emmanuel’s parents, meanwhile, strain to be accepting. Jimmy and Amelia always seem to hone in on their hands whenever Dean and Emmanuel are just relaxing and watching TV, and they don’t let Emmanuel bring Dean up to his bedroom. Their smiles are only polite when they direct them to Dean, and that stings because he remembers hearing how quickly they had rushed to the hospital after his surgery, how they had waited with Dean’s parents for hours, anxious for news.

It’s Claire who finally gets them to start reconsidering.

Since graduating, she’s moved to the city, where she stays afloat with a few part-time jobs. At 25, she’s hoping for a promotion soon, and they’ve all got their fingers crossed for her. In the meantime, she visits home periodically, and on one particular day, they’re eating dinner all together.

It’s a chicken, green beans, mashed potatoes and gravy night, and things are going well until Emmanuel accidentally smears gravy on his face. Next to him, Dean laughs and leans over, wiping it off with a finger before even thinking about it. Dean freezes as the temperature suddenly plummets. Discreetly, he wipes the gravy off on the napkin in his lap instead of licking it off as he had planned. There’s a long moment where no one moves, and then Claire sighs dramatically.

“Seriously? Dad, I’ve seen you do that with Mom a thousand times. Why is it suddenly wrong for them to do it?”

“Claire…” Jimmy starts, a warning to his voice, and Claire erupts.

“No, don’t _Claire_ me, Dad! This is stupid! Love is love! Why can’t you even support your son? I thought you loved him!”

“Of course we love him!” Amelia cuts in, outraged. “That’s not the problem here!”

“So the problem is that he and Dean are together? And why is that exactly?”

Dean glances at Emmanuel, and they subconsciously sink lower in their seats as the argument continues on their behalf.

“But how is it _wrong_ exactly? Just because they can’t reproduce, what they have doesn’t count as love?”

“Claire, that’s not it and you know it!”

“Know what, Dad? Come on, tell me. Know what?”

“It’s not…your brother…I don’t…” Jimmy tries, but Claire just smirks victoriously.

“You’re just uncomfortable with it. So get over yourself. It’s real, it happens, and I, for one, am happy for them.” She levels a smile at Emmanuel and Dean, and they timidly smile back.

Somehow they resume eating, and the atmosphere, while still frosty, does thaw a little with dessert. That’s mostly because it’s pie and Dean can’t resist, no matter how homophobic Emmanuel’s parents might be.

* * *

Things get a little easier for them after Claire’s outburst, and it helps that their families get together to celebrate Christmas. It’s a festive affair at the Winchester’s home, and with some good quality eggnog, even the Novaks are enjoying themselves. Sam’s brought over a friend – a girl named Madison – and they are all laughing and singing along with the Christmas carols when something goes horribly wrong.

At Emmanuel’s side, Dean blinks strangely for a few minutes and then his smile slips and he falters, his eyes rolling back in his head as he collapses to the ground. There’s a shout and John is feeling for a pulse, screaming at Mary to call 911. Emmanuel watches in a horrid sort of detachment as John administers CPR, his careful compressions punctuated by Mary’s frantic voice as she speaks into the phone.

Emmanuel feels like he’s drifting away. He wills Dean to wake up, to move, to smile, to do _anything_ , and perversely, he remembers not too long ago, when he and Dean were upstairs in his room, slowly peeling off their clothes. Emmanuel had reverently kissed the scar on Dean’s chest, feeling the hard lump where the pacemaker was keeping him alive, and he recalled thinking how grateful he was for modern technology, how grateful he was that that woman, the angel, hadn’t taken Dean away from him.

The angel who is probably here again. Dean’s angel of death.

Emmanuel comes back to himself when his father roughly jostles him out of the way of EMS personnel rushing inside. The cold December air blows in after them, and he is frozen as they pull out shock pads, ripping open Dean’s shirt and applying them to his chest. The machine surges and Dean’s body jolts. They check and then do it a second time, a third time. Emmanuel can hear each second tick as it passes, and it’s far, far too long before Dean’s heart beats again. The paramedics announce that they’ve resuscitated him for now, but they need to get him to the hospital. Their faces are grim, and they end up wheeling Dean out on a stretcher with John at his side.

Emmanuel only watches in a daze. Around him, his and Dean’s families rush to grab necessities, and then they’re out the door, driving to the hospital far behind the ambulance blaring sirens up ahead. Emmanuel’s parents don’t say anything on the ride over. Emmanuel wouldn’t know what to say anyways.

It’s as they arrive at the hospital and assume their places in the waiting room that Emmanuel is seized with the knowledge that this might be it. This might be Dean’s last day on Earth. It was a happy day, at least, but it shouldn’t be his last. Dean deserves more time to make memories. He deserves all the time in the world.

It’s not fair. It’s not _fair_.

Emmanuel pulls away from his parents and wanders down the brightly lit corridors. He finds himself in the hospital chapel, and there’s a man inside who looks up when he enters.

“Hello,” he says, and Emmanuel knows that voice. The man is blond, and wearing jeans, a low gray v-neck shirt, and a jacket. He stands up with a smile. “Fancy meeting you here.”

“Who are you?” Emmanuel breathes, and suddenly he’s distracted by a bright light flaring from the man’s chest. It’s coming from a chain with a tiny corked vial on the end of it, and inside is a little ball of light skittering against the glass. Emmanuel feels a swell of emotion, the foremost being a desperate yearning for the light, and he forces himself back.

“Why are you here?”

“I’m here for you, of course.”

“Why?”

The man cocks his head. “I think you might know.”

Emmanuel’s breath hitches. “You can… _I_ can save Dean?”

The man nods slowly. “Yes. But that would mean you’d have to come back. Well, not _all_ the way back.” He grips the vial and shakes it, and Emmanuel is aware of a high-pitched screeching noise emanating from the light.

“What is that?” he asks again.

“It’s yours. And I can give it back to you if you want.”

Emmanuel is quiet for a long time. Finally, he asks in a tight voice, “What am I?”

The man beams. “Now _that’s_ the right question!” All of a sudden, the chapel lights dim. The man stands straight, puffing up his chest, and there’s a crack of lightning that reveals the silhouette of two enormous wings erupting from his back. Emmanuel stumbles backward out of fear and awe, his heart pounding in his chest. He can hear his pulse thudding in his ears, and that’s when he remembers why he’s here.

 _Dean_. Who’s currently dying in the other room, his own heart refusing to pump life through his veins.

And here’s Emmanuel with this man who is…who is…who is what Emmanuel is.

Emmanuel leaps forward, snagging the vial and ripping the chain off the man’s neck. Emmanuel uncorks it and is immediately swallowed in a brilliant, blinding light. His whole body crackles like it’s on fire, but for the first time in his life, he feels truly _alive_. A chorus of voices explode around him as his body absorbs the light, and Emmanuel weeps because he remembers.

He _remembers_.

“Balthazar,” he gasps when the light fades, and the man, Balthazar, smiles.

“Hello, Cassie. It’s been a while.”

Emmanuel – no, Castiel – stands and wobbles over to Balthazar, clasping his hand.

“Brother,” he says. “Tell me. Is Heaven…is it any better than when I left?”

Balthazar pulls a face. “Afraid not. Everyone’s taking sides. Still a bloodbath as far as I know. Why do you think I’ve been hiding on earth in this _vessel_?” He gestures to his body. “Though, I will admit, there are perks. I can see the appeal of humanity.”

“Do they know about you? Do they know you kept my grace?”

Balthazar shrugs. “I think my vanishing act was superbly executed, if I do say so myself. As far as they’re concerned, I’m dead, and good riddance! Ever since you and Anael fell, I’d been getting all sorts of looks. They expected me to go the same route, so I just gave them what they wanted. Well, except for the actual ‘falling’ part.”

“How is Anael?” Castiel interrupts, and Balthazar’s smile is fond.

“Good. She’s been enjoying her human life. There wasn’t as much angel-bleed with her as there was with you.”

Castiel frowns. “Why not?” He glances up. “And how did you know I’d need my grace back?”

“I had a feeling. I’ve known you for a long time, Cassie. You’ve always been about saving others.”

Castiel’s eyes widen. “Dean…” He lifts his hands, staring at them hard. “Do I have enough power to save him?”

“Up to you. Leech enough from The Host, and yes, easily. But then they’ll know you’re back. It’ll be tricky, but you’ve always been a good strategist.” Balthazar winks and Castiel smiles, pulling his brother into a tight embrace.

“Thank you, Balthazar,” he whispers, and Balthazar makes a shooing motion with his hands.

“Yes, yes, now go to your boy before it’s too late.”

Castiel nods and closes his eyes, focusing. There’s only one way to do this, and he can’t fail.

* * *

Dean’s wearing a white suit in a room filled with dazzling white light. It makes it impossible for him to pick out any details, but the light is soothing and warm, and Dean basks in it, allowing his feet to carry him toward where the woman is standing with her back to him. Reaching out, he taps her shoulder and she turns to face him. She’s beautiful, with a short brown bob and kind eyes. When she smiles, Dean finds himself smiling back.

“It’s time, Dean,” she says, and Dean swallows around the regret, the guilt. He hadn’t expected to die on Christmas day, but that is apparently what was written in his cards. He has already cheated death enough. There are no more chances left.

The lump in his throat aches as Dean mentally says his goodbyes to his family, to his friends, to…to…

The woman holds out a hand and Dean is just about to take it when there’s an odd whooshing sound and Emmanuel is suddenly there.

“Tessa, don’t,” Emmanuel says, and Dean watches as her smile curls into a smirk.

“Well, well, well…Castiel. It’s been a long time. I heard you were gone.”

“You were misinformed.”

“Hmm,” Tessa hums thoughtfully as her eyes rake over him. “I can see that. So, what, you think you can just cross his name off the list? I have a job to do.”

“I’m healing him. Right now.”

Tessa cocks her head, evaluating, and finally she nods briskly. “So you are.” She glances at Dean. “Third time’s the charm, I guess. Good thing you had an angel on your side.”

She gives Dean a wave and promptly vanishes.

Dean is left gaping after her. His gaze swings to Emmanuel, who is holding himself stiffly.

“Manny…what the hell is going on?” Dean demands. “I’m…I’m dead, you know. Unless this is all some crazy dream and I’m not dead?”

“It’s not a dream. And technically, you’re dying, but not dead yet. I’m fixing your heart now.” Emmanuel’s smile is soft. “You won’t even need a pacemaker after this.”

“What are you talking about?”

Emmanuel stares at him, and Dean gasps. There’s something ancient in his friend’s eyes that wasn’t there before.

“Manny…what…?”

“I’ll explain when you’re awake.”

“No, you’ll explain right now!” Dean says, striding forward to poke Emmanuel in the chest, an action he regrets when he suddenly comprehends Tessa’s parting words. “Wait…what…what are you?”

“I’m an angel of the lord,” Emmanuel says. “My name is Castiel.”

“Castiel? You’re an angel?”

Emmanuel – Castiel – grimaces. “I have my powers back, so yes, in that respect I’m an angel. But I’m also still human. Mostly.”

“Mostly.”

“Yes, mostly.”

Dean gawks at him. “So what does that mean?”

“I’m a fallen angel,” Emmanuel says. “I ripped out my grace, my powers, and fell to the Earth to be born as a human.”

“So your dreams really _were_ memories,” Dean muses.

“Yes, they were.”

“Wow.”

Emmanuel nods and walks forward, causing Dean to unconsciously step backward, a part of him afraid. When he does, a look of hurt flits over Emmanuel’s face. Dean instantly regrets it.

“Manny—” he starts, but his words cut off. The white room is dissolving, fragmenting into colors, faces. “Wait, Manny…Casti…Cas! CAS!” Dean screams, but the world is ripped away and he’s tumbling.

And somewhere in the darkness there’s beeping, steady beeping.

* * *

The doctors are baffled. The word ‘miracle’ is bandied around, and Dean can only snort at how true it is. His family is thrilled, of course, but Dean’s missing one face, one very important face.

“Where’s Manny?” he rasps, once Mary stops suffocating him and the commotion dies down.

She wipes the tears from her eyes and turns to Amelia and Jimmy, who are poised in the doorway.

“I sent Claire to try to find him,” Amelia says, while Jimmy just shrugs.

“We’ll find him, sweetie,” Mary continues, smoothing his hair out of his face. “We’ll find him and tell him the good news.”

But they don’t find him. Not for hours. The worst part is, he’s not answering his phone either. It’s strange that Emmanuel wouldn’t want to be there for when his boyfriend woke up, and Dean can see panic blooming on his parent’s faces.

Only, are they even Emmanuel's parents?

Dean shakes his head. He needs to talk to him. Apologize… _something_. His family is talking with the Novaks in the corner, whispering so as not to disturb Dean even though he feels better than he has in…well, a long time. Maybe even forever. Sam is out getting food from the vending machine. Dean is alone, for now. He sucks in a breath and closes his eyes, taking a moment to really let it all sink in.

 _Manny, please come back_ , he thinks to himself, and then amends it. _Or Castiel, I guess. Please come back. I’m sorry I freaked out, I just…please. I need to talk to you. Please._

Dean’s eyes open when there’s the sound of a light-bulb shattering, and he stares in horror as the Winchesters and Novaks suddenly slump to the floor. Dean fights the machines still attached to him, struggling to get up and help them, but stops when Emmanuel’s voice appears.

“It’s alright. They’re just sleeping,” he says, stepping gingerly around his parents as makes his way to Dean. His face is downcast, contrite almost, and when he stops a foot away from the bed, Dean growls and grabs a fistful of his jacket to yank him closer.

“Manny, just don’t. I don’t care, I—”

“You’re alright? It…it worked? Completely?” Emmanuel interrupts, and Dean sighs.

“Yeah, dude. You healed me. All the way. The doctors are keeping me for tests because it’s a fucking miracle.”

“ _Freaking_ ,” Emmanuel corrects automatically, and there’s a long moment of silence where the two of them just stare at each other. Dean breaks it when he bursts out laughing.

Emmanuel joins him a second later, unsure at first, but ending with him clutching his gut.

“They’re talking about scheduling a surgery to take out the pacemaker if my results look good,” Dean says, once their humor fades.

“Good,” Emmanuel says, and he leans into Dean’s hand when Dean cups his jaw.

“Yeah, and I don’t even have to worry about complications, right? Cuz I have my own personal angel to step in.”

At that, Emmanuel pulls back slightly, his smile slipping.

“Dean, I know this must be strange for you, and I can understand if you don’t want me to—”

“What the hell has made you think I don’t want you here?” Dean cuts in. “Dude, you’re my…my boyfriend. And my best friend. You may be ‘Castiel’ or whatever, but you’re also still Manny, right?”

A small smile appears on Emmanuel’s face. “Of course, Dean. I’ll always be Manny.”

“Then you’ll stay. Right? You’ll stay.”

“If you want me to.”

“Hell yeah I want you to.” Dean pauses, a smirk on his lips. “I mean, heck yeah, I want you to.”

Emmanuel beams and surges forward to kiss him. Electricity sings between their lips, tingling up their bodies, and they eventually stop to press their foreheads together. Dean feels breathless, but in the best way possible.

“Your mother was right, you know,” Emmanuel speaks after a moment.

“About what?”

Emmanuel’s eyes are shining.

“Angels are watching over you, Dean.”

“No,” Dean says, shaking his head with a warm smile. “Not angel _s_. _Angel_.”

**Author's Note:**

> I adore the episode Faith, and was really inspired to write Dean with a heart problem. Then Cas went ahead and got involved and it became this! And hey, I also wanted to practice writing a SHORT story (I'm always writing longfics) and to write in the perspective of a child. 
> 
> Some details and events in this fic were inspired by the real life of [Ben Breedlove](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ben_Breedlove), who died of HCM in 2011. I encourage you to check out his story.


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